


If You Keep Still It Doesn´t Hurt

by CatsViolin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Background Winchest, Bloodplay, Demon Blood, Demon Blood Addiction, Demon Sex, Emotionally unstable, F/M, Hurt Dean Winchester, M/M, Non-Consensual, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 10:17:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2384744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatsViolin/pseuds/CatsViolin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When the demon found him he was beyond drunk. He couldn´t hold himself upright and swayed heavily when he got up and grabbed for the knife when she materialised in the door.<br/>“You!” he slurred, “you. What do you want? Came here to kill me? Go ahead. Can´t become much deader than I already am…” "</p><p>After Sam falls into Lucifer´s cage, Dean has a breakdown during which a demon finds him who has other plans entirely...</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Keep Still It Doesn´t Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> This one is rather graphic, I guess...

It´s been three months now that Sam has been gone. Three months in which Dean has passed several states of not-dealing with the fact that his brother is trapped in a cage with monsters crept right out of the Bible.  
He had tried denial, anger, hoped that some miracle would bring him back, just like so many other times when it had seemed like all hope was lost and then a supernatural force had shown up and put things right. At least right in the way that they had each other again. Because apparently even the universe had realised by now that Dean without Sam or Sam without Dean simply didn´t work out. Whatever impossible price they had had to pay, and Dean wouldn´t admit it, but he had paid it willingly. Even when his brain had caught up with the fact that he was actually going to hell he had known that it had been the only way. 

But nothing had happened. Dean hadn´t returned worried calls from Bobby, asking how he was doing, if he wanted to talk, maybe come over and stay at his place for some time.  
Dean didn´t wanna fucking talk. He wanted, he needed to be left alone. He couldn´t stand other people around, caring, seeing the fear in their eyes.  
He couldn´t even be around strangers because he was sure they could see how inadequate he was on his own. That an essential part of him was missing. He couldn´t stand to see that irritation in their eyes. The proof that something was undeniably, really, terribly wrong with him. And that he couldn´t hide it. 

So all Dean did was drive. Much too fast, the music far too loud, never stopping for food or a room to sleep in. When he couldn´t keep his eyes open anymore he pulled off the road and dosed in the car, not even bothering so lock the doors, half hoping that something would come for him, tear him out, make him feel anything else than the sucking emptiness tearing at his ribs.  
But nothing happened. He didn´t even dream, even if he had half hoped to see his brother inside his head. Even if he was sure as hell it wouldn´t have been pleasant flowers, sun and butterfly dreams. But his head wouldn´t even have him have that.  
There were these terrifying moments when he would wake up, all uncomfortable from whatever unsuitable angle he had slept in, and instinctively look around for Sam. He started dreading these seconds even more than the constant pain he felt anyway.  
But he never cried. He sometimes screamed at empty space, called into unresponsive dark forest for something to happen. For someone to come and get him, for god to show some mercy, some interest at all and just strike him with lightning or whatever. He claimed to still not believe, to never have believed at all, so maybe all this insanity would have an end. If he didn´t believe in Lucifer and Michael, Angels, God and fucking religion, how could his brother be taken away by something that didn´t exist?

Cas never showed. After fixing a crushed and broken Dean he left, not saying a single word. Dean wished so badly he had just left him there. Or for Satan not having been such a girl and just end it there and then. He didn´t want to think about the possibility that maybe it was Sam´s doing that Dean hadn´t been torn to bits that day. That maybe his baby brother had stopped Satan from killing Dean, so he had to go through everything that followed the moment Sam fell through that hole. In his memory he only ever saw Sam falling. Alone. 

Dean thought about going to Lisa and Ben, he really did. His head rung with Sam´s wish for him to go and have a “normal” life. But Dean just couldn´t. It wouldn´t have been fair. No kid should ever see someone so broken, no woman ever feel so unable to fill her lover´s emptiness-.  
It just wouldn´t be fair. 

Dean couldn´t look at Sam´s stuff. He had wanted to just throw it out, but a part of him, a voice he wouldn´t listen to, stopped him. Just in case his brother might return.  
Dean had put Sam´s bag and all the knick-nags he had found in the car that belonged to or even especially reminded him of Sam into the deepest corner of the Impala´s trunk and covered it with a toolbox. All but that one square shirt. He had folded it nicely and kept it in the glove compartment and hated himself for doing so. But he couldn´t help it. Stupid. 

But his energy didn´t hold. After weeks he feels tired with an intensity he has never experienced before. He finds a deserted hunting cabin off the highway and holes up in it.  
When he goes to sleep the first night, he doesn´t get up again for over 24 hours. He doesn´t sleep all the time, just lies there, empty stare against the ceiling.  
He can´t get himself to get up. What for? There is nothing to do, Dean doesn´t even feel bad for his apathy. That should probably bother him, but it doesn´t.  
Memories of a medical program about depression he once saw float into his mind, but just drift by without causing any emotion. He is glad for this mental pause. 

When the demon found him he was beyond drunk. He couldn´t hold himself upright and swayed heavily when he got up and grabbed for the knife when she materialised in the door.  
“You!” he slurred, “you. What do you want? Came here to kill me? Go ahead. Can´t become much deader than I already am…”  
The girl is attractive, even downright beautiful, but Dean couldn´t care less. She stands in the doorway in a slim cut grey coat. Her blond hair falls down to her waist, and if it wasn´t for the black eyes she would have resembled the idea of an angel perfectly. She moves closer slowly, as if not to scare a cornered animal.  
“Dean, calm down. I´m here to help. We can help each other. I could be your other kind of guardian angel. You know, the kind that actually has ideas that work out. Dean, I know how to make you feel better. Even good. You will forget the pain, won´t feel like your insides are shredded. I can´t take away the void, but I can make you bear it.”  
Dean backs away, stumbles over his bag and collapses in an ungraceful heap on the floor.  
“I don´t want your help! It didn´t do… It didn´t help… him, either. Not really. It made him suffer…”  
The girl walks closer, carefully kneels down beside him. Her eyes are green and clear.  
“Do you really think that you can suffer much more than you already do? Dean, look at you. This is not what Sam would have wanted. You are a wreck, it´s sad, really. Think about what you could be, what you need to be. Dean, your part in this isn´t over.”  
“It really is over.” Dean says with conviction. “Everything is. So, go on. I really don´t care anymore.”  
He sprawls all his limbs on the dirty cabin floor, bears his neck and closes his eyes.  
He expects pain, blood, hellfire. What he doesn´t expect is a gentle hand on his neck, trailing from his jaw over his adam´s apple and sliding into the rim of his t-shirt. The demon crawls closer, till she sits on his lower abdomen. She slides her thighs down to his hips, trailing both of her hands down Dean´s flanks.  
She makes a hushing, soothing sound when Dean tries so scramble away, his intoxicated brain catching up with what is happening.  
“No!”, he barks, pulls the muscles in his stomach tight and tries to get her off. “OK, I hoped it didn´t have to be this way…” The girl says, and her damn voice actually sounds like she means it.  
Her eyes switch to black and suddenly Dean feels a pressure on his neck, choking him. He tries to gasp but realises with sudden terror that he can´t breathe at all anymore.  
The demon pulls a shimmering knife from her coat and strips his shirt away efficiently, cutting it in two right from his neck down to the buckle of his belt. She brushes the fabric aside and rakes her nails across his chest, leaving red marks.  
She makes a purring sound and slides her hands down to his belt, opening it and sliding down his jeans. She presses the flat of her hand against Dean´s crotch and takes away the pressure on his neck at the same time. Dean gasps, but isn´t allowed more than a single breath until the choking sensation is back.  
The girl slides one hand into his briefs, giving his balls a quick press as she moves past them and further back. She murmurs something as her second and third finger press against Dean´s entrance and he is terrified of how much she seems to enjoy this. With a sweet smile on her face she pushes in relentlessly, past the tight ring of muscle. Her fingers feel dry and tear painfully at his insides. She is in him down to her knuckles as she spreads her fingers, and adds a third. Dean whines, because it is too much and burns like his skin is going to rip open, there are tears in his eyes as he looks up at the creature ascended from hell. And suddenly he realizes that this is exactly what he deserves. There is no mercy left on this earth he deserves to be shown. His body goes limp. He stops struggling and accepts the increasing dizziness, caused by the lack of oxygen. “Now that is a good boy.”, the demon crows and keeps moving his fingers inside of him, her thumb nudging his balls. “Don´t tell me you don´t know how this goes. Even we caught up to what you and little Sammy were doing together. Naughty, really. Tell me Dean, is this how it felt? Cause you can´t tell me he´d be the type to go easy…”  
And Dean takes it, doesn´t fight, obediently breathes when she allows him to, and keeps still.  
When the girl starts to thrust rhythmically into him, his windpipe is suddenly free. “Tell me you want this.”, she commands, and places the knife on his lower ribs with her free hand. Dean doesn´t make a sound. The knife cuts into his skin and she drags the blade down his side, following the cavity between his ribs. Dean feels a sharp pain and blood dripping down his side. “Tell me”, she repeats calmly.  
“I want this”, Dean says, his voice husky from the strain. “More.”, the black eyed girl demands. “Please”, Dean croaks out “hurt me. Make me feel the pain. Take everything you want.”  
She makes an approving sound and her features flash with lust.  
She takes his hand and places it between her thighs, under her tight black skirt she isn´t wearing any underwear. “Show me how much you like this”, she tells him and Dean moves his fingers on her soft flesh. Her skin is wet and hot and Dean dives one finger in, moving the other in small circles around her clit. She moans approvingly and drops the knife, dragging her hand through his hair, then pressing her fingers against his lips. Dean sucks them in, licking each one and biting down at the tips. “Good boy.”, she repeats and pushes her hips forward into his touch. He slips another finger in and she jerks.  
Suddenly she rolls them over and pushes Dean down, till his face is between her legs. Obediently he starts licking, slips a finger back inside and nudges at her clit with the tip of his tongue. She makes a sharp little noise as his other finger starts swirling next to his tongue, speeding up his motions. She rocks forward and slightly lifts her hip off the floor. “Just like that”, she breaths. Dean continues and as her body starts tensioning up she picks up the knife she dropped and puts it to her own wrist.  
Dean licks her with small, quick movements and when she comes he hears the sound of steel on flesh. He doesn´t have time to look up until she lunges down on him like a predator, pressing her bleeding wrist against his mouth. “Well done”, her voice is low and dangerous, “now drink.” Dean feels the liquid pooling at his lips and dripping down at the sides of his face. Suddenly he can´t breathe again, and he knows that he will have to open his mouth at some point. He parts his lips and the blood pools in his mouth, hot and coppery, burning in his throat. She presses her arm over his mouth and he swallows. He can feel it burning down to his stomach, but there also immediately is a low, dark feeling of power surging through him. He suddenly pulls her wrist to him and takes another sip, starts sucking at her cut skin, his tongue licks over the edges of the cut that feels too straight and smooth to really be living skin. Which it isn´t, he reminds himself.  
He sucks and licks and swallows and she seems to enjoy it just as much as she did his giving her pleasure before.  
When she finally pulls her wrist back firmly, Dean growls, low and pissed off, like an animal.  
She chuckles. “Who would have thought you were such a natural…” and Dean is pretty sure she is not referring to his fingering skills.  
He can still feel the powerful feeling rushing through him, and he thinks he can hear a faint, wet sound, like water running through pipes. Then he realises this sound has a steady rhythm and when it matches the barely visible pulsing of a vain on the demons neck he realizes what it is. He can hear her blood pumping through her veins.  
And he is fairly certain that he shouldn´t be turned on by that.  
A smile spreads on his face. Bright and hungry.  
“What shall we do next?”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you´ve enjoyed this, any mistakes you might find are mine...


End file.
